The Case of the Missing Keys

i have a bookmark that i've been using during my spring break whirlwind tour of fantasy/mystery fiction.  It depicts a cartoon rabbit wearing sunglasses, leaning against a tree reading a book.  At the top, a thought bubble reads, "Some of my best friends are books." This rabbit is me, from its ridiculously large cartoon teeth right down to its abnormally proportioned feet, but most especially in it's thought process.  yet, if this were me, it might say something more like, "Other than bear and bryce, books are my only best friends (in denver)". The veracity of this statement was quite plainly illustrated last night, in a story that begins (and probably ends) with me being an ass (this post is turning into a regular Aesop's fable, eh?)

i can be a bit, er, absentminded (i think that is the term used to describe a charming lunacy in those claiming some measure of brilliance - "Absentminded Professor", eg).  Last night, while waiting for "Duplicity" to begin, bryce and i strolled round the mall, and wound up, by sheer gravitational pull, in Anthropologie.  While making fun of someone, using an Anthro accessory as a prop, i put down my bundle of things in order to really give this joke my all (that's right, still no purse, though i do carry a woman's wallet now, if you'd like something to give me credit for).  Hours later, after the mall had closed, we left the movie and discovered that i did not have my keys.  Strike that - bryce's keys.  double damn. Not only had i lost them because i am absentminded, i'd done it while imitating someone, a bit cattily. double jackass.  we have no cash (who does??) for a taxi and thus proceed to walk the 3.1 miles home, conveniently through a posh neighborhood on one of the warmest nights we've had in months.  needless to say, bryce is not pleased.  nor am i, for that matter, but when you are me, you just get used to this kind of stuff.  que sera, and all that. but the bookmark related bit occured when on the Long walk home, whilst being shadowed by the ghost of my accidents past, and guided by the wavering lantern light of the ghost of jackassy-ness to come, bryce noted that we really don't know anyone here.  It's true.  i have some school friends' numbers, but would rather eat my big toe and walk crooked for the rest of my life than ask them for a favor. plus, we don't Know them...not in the rescue us on a saturday night at 11 pm way. 

So i guess it might be time for us to look into making the kind of friends you can call for such things. But in the light of a perfect, 77 degree, sunny day, all i want to do is sit outside, and forge a stronger relationship with my new best friend, Sherlock Holmes, whom i could no doubt call upon for the very ablest assistance! that is, if he were real.